Historically a Scary Place
by SamCyberCat
Summary: The days in Misthallery brought dread of the foggy nights, when the spectre was rumoured to lurk about. Badger and Crow reflect upon this from a ledge in the market.


**Notes:** Written for Spectrumv on tumblr, who gave me the prompts Crow/Badger and "Troubling Thoughts". This one goes hand-in-hand with "Probably a Scary Place", but you don't have to read one to understand the other. Set sometime before the events of PL4, with spoilers for that game.

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><p>Being a Black Raven was, for the most part, a lot of work. Everyone had their own job to do, their own thing that they were good at, which Crow specifically asked them to focus on. In Badger's case this was dressing up as the Black Raven itself, running across the rooftops to confuse potential customers who they might lure to the black market. This suited him just fine, because it meant that he could push his athletic prowess while also not have to talk to any of the strangers who came to find them. Badger hated talking to people he didn't know, it made him freeze up every time.<p>

But it can't all being speeding around in a costume, as some days it might be hours before a new customer turns up. And other days there weren't any new customers at all...

On those days, Badger would have to be banished to the roll of look-out. Which basically meant that Crow didn't have any idea what else he should be doing, so he might as well hang around to spot any potential customers or general new-comers to Misthallery. His posts included both the market itself and the little wood nearby, though Badger wasn't sure how many people came to Misthallery just to wander amongst some trees.

Thankfully, today saw him at the market, perched on his ledge. The wooden platform had become 'his' ledge sometime ago, simply because he kept using it. He was quite fortunate that the house it was attached to seemed to have long since been left abandoned. Rumour had it that it had been part way through a renovation years back, but after Evan Barde passed away the funding dried up and nobody seemed to know or care who the old building legally belonged to any more. So it was Badger's now and that suited him just fine. Being just out of the way of the people below meant that he was less likely to have to talk to anyone.

It didn't get half boring on quiet days like today, though.

Badger sighed, glancing out onto the town that lay before him. It would have been an impressive sight, if he hadn't seen it hundreds of times before. Nothing changed here. Nothing except, well...

From where he was he couldn't see the damaged houses that lay further up Misthallery, but he didn't need to see them to know that they were there. From the spectre, everyone had said. Some big monster that lurched through the evening fog, destroying anything that lay in it's path.

Thankfully, there was no fog this early in the afternoon, but that didn't matter. No matter how clear the sky was at day time, at night the mist would settle in and not let up until morning. That's where the town got it's name from, Badger's been told. But lately there's been even more fog than usual – thicker, murkier fog, that hid the looming eyes of the spectre...

Badger shook his head. It wouldn't do to think like that. The spectre has left the market alone so far, meaning that as long as he was here, he'd be safe.

"Oi, Badge'!"

He looked down from his post to see their stout leader staring up at him. Something must be up if Crow had left his inventory at this time of day.

"Yeah, Crow? Somethin' the matteh?" he checked.

Crow shrugged and replied, "Marilyn says that Gus ran off. Apparently they 'ad an argument this aftahnoon an' the little guy pegged it. I wouldn't worry too much though, 'e'll probably show up soon enough, just thought I'd let ya know in case ya see 'im."

"I'm surprised you doun't 'ave everyone out lookin' for 'im," commented Badger, "You usualleh do when someone disappears."

"Well, I kinda did tell everyone else to 'ave a nosy around," Crow confessed, "But I doubt 'e's gotten too far, an' with so many o' us we're bound to find 'im soon enough."

"With that spectre lurkin' out there, I 'ope so..." murmured Badger, more to himself than to Crow.

There was the sound of creaking steps and suddenly Crow was climbing he way up the ladder. Badger shuffled to a side, so he'd have more room to climb out at the top.

"No one's 'eard of it attackin' durin' the day yet," Crow said, as he stepped out onto the platform. He looked at Badger sternly, as if he felt the need to put his troubled mind to rest.

"Doun't mean it won't start," Badger argued, glancing away and out across the market. Keeping Crow's gaze was too hard, especially when it got as intense as that.

Crow shrugged, "If it does, we'll just 'afta be ready for it."

"What can we do? A buncha kids in some old market. No one's ever been scared of that," sighed Badger.

"But they're scared o' the Black Raven, right?" reminded Crow, "No one knows we're just kids an' we've been 'ere longah than that spectre."

"Still doun't mean I'd want t' take 'im in a fight," Badger insisted. Crow could get ahead of himself sometimes. As much as being the Black Raven brought them wonder and respect from people that they'd never manage to get on their own, it didn't make them super heroes that could take down some big, unknown monster.

"Neither would I," Crow confessed, joining him in staring out at the town.

They stayed like that for a short while, not saying a word. Badger isn't good at making conversation anyway and sometimes Crow just needs to think. He's probably coming up with some genius plan that'll save them all from that monster and if Badger interrupts him now then he'd be really cross. So instead, Badger shifted his glance from the town to Crow himself. That thoughtful, strange, amazing boy, who'd taken a load of nothings like them and turned them into something. At times, Badger would proudly think that they might be the most successful business in town (though Paddy from the restaurant would probably argue with him on that point) and it was all down to Crow. There was no way Badger couldn't admire someone like that.

"The fog rolls in from the 'ills," said Crow, out of nowhere. It made Badger jump. Not that it mattered, since Crow was still looking out onto Misthallery and not at him.

"That's just 'ow fog works," Badger replied, once he'd recovered.

"Yeah, I guess so. But it comes so quickly an' disappears, just as fast, as if someone stopped needin' it," Crow went on, and Badger noticed that he was looking towards where the hills would be, had the old building not been blocking them from sight.

"No one needs fog," muttered Badger.

"The spectre needs it," Crow argued.

"So you think the spectre is a magic fog-makin' creature?" checked Badger, smiling ever so slightly at that.

"Dunno. Can't say I know what it is, or if it's even a spectre at all," admitted Crow, "I've lived 'ere all my life, Badge', an' I don't put much into fairy tales, but there's this one that old folk in town talk about a lot. Do ya know it?"

Badger searched his head. He wasn't one for stories, since he didn't know how to read, but even after only living in Misthallery for a short time he'd heard that tale. People around here seemed quite proud of it, as if it made their town special. Or they had done before the spectre started showing up, anyway.

"I think I know most of it, yeah. That some farm girl played a magic flute n' summoned a spectre to protect Mist'allereh from bandits?" Badger recited. About a year ago, the Black Ravens had sold an ocarina that they claimed to be this flute of legend. Crow had made sure all of them were familiar with the story, so that there'd be no slip ups. In the end, they'd gotten a high price for it, so the effort had been worth their while. He couldn't understand why Crow was bringing it up now; "The spectre in that story wasn't smashin' buildin's though," he pointed out.

"But maybe they're connected some'ow. Mist'allery must 'ave only been a little town back then, it wasn't even named in the book," hummed Crow, "Maybe it was named aftah the mist that the spectre brought in with it."

"Might 'ave been..." Badger agreed. He doesn't know about anything like that, but he does know that the fog got worse after the spectre turned up. If that's what happened with the spectre in the story, then Badger couldn't blame them for naming a town after it.

"Not that it mattahs if it's the same one or somethin' completely different from the story. At the end of the day it's still attackin' our town," said Crow.

'Our' town. As if they owned it. In some small way, Badger thought that Crow did own his own little part of the town. The market certainly wouldn't be the same without him, that was for sure.

Another lapse into silence, giving them both a chance to reflect upon how late it was getting. The sun was setting and it's rich, pink glow only served to demonstrate that the mist was settling in. Had they really been talking that long? To Badger it felt like hardly any time at all.

"What do ya think, Badge'?" Crow asked, out of the blue.

"I think... I think that we're all scared, like," Badger answered, earnestly, "We doun't know what's goin' on, none of us does, so we're all just goin' about our lives to make ourselves feel betteh. B'cause if we doun't then we'll get distracted by not knowin' 'ow to cope with it all."

"Yeah," Crow agreed, "I reckon ya right. It makes me uneasy to sit around not doin' anythin' though."

"I'd rather you didn't run off t' deal with it yourself," scolded Badger.

"Yessir, o' great Badger, sir," chuckled Crow. It seemed that even when Badger was trying to be proper serious Crow wouldn't take it. That's just like him.

"I mean it, birdie," Badger insisted, "It's not your job t' look afteh the 'ole of Mist'allereh."

"Nah, just to look aftah you lot," concluded Crow.

There's no way that Badger could argue about that; "You do a good job of doin' just that."

"I 'ope so," mumbled Crow.

He looked troubled, so much so that Badger wants to take hold of his shoulders and tell him it was going to be all right, that all of them were going to be fine, even if he couldn't stop the spectre. But that'd be too weird. The last thing that Badger wants is to look like a weirdo in front of Crow...

So instead they just stay there for a while longer. At first, Badger had felt uneasy at the amount of awkward silences they'd fallen into. But then he realised that if Crow had wanted to leave then he would have done so. He wasn't staying here just to spare Badger's feelings, he was staying here because he wanted to, even if they were just watching an unusual little town fall into darkness.

The air grew colder with the arrival of the night and the mist settled all around them like a veil. It would have almost been comforting, had it not been for the fear of what lurked down there. Badger wasn't looking forward to walking home in this.

"There," Crow suddenly said, pointing into the gloom.

Following his gaze, Badger caught sight of two figures, wandering through the streets. Luckily, they were not spectre-like creatures, but instead were Marilyn and Gus, heading towards their houses and chatting to each other.

"Looks like they made up," Badger observed.

"Knew they would," replied Crow, "They just needed some time. But if they'd taken any longah I woulda 'ad to go out lookin' for 'em."

"So that's why you've been up 'ere all this time..." mumbled Badger, feeling slightly dejected. Of course he was happy that Gus was unharmed and that they'd made it back safely, but part of him had hoped that their leader had stayed up here for him.

Crow shrugged, "Partly, yeah. But mostly 'cause I wanted to talk to ya."

"Give oveh, you're just tryin' to butteh me up now," tutted Badger, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I am not," assured Crow, "But if that's 'ow ya gonna be, I'll go stand with Louis next time."

"No you won't, 'e'd drive you up the wall with all 'is gossip," dismissed Badger, heading past Crow and towards the ladder. His foot was on the first step when he heard the shorter boy speak up again.

"Badge'?"

He turned back; "Yeah?"

"Want... want me to walk ya 'ome? I know it ain't far from 'ere, but the fog's worse than pea soup," he mumbled.

"I'm not scared of some fog," Badger assured him.

"All right then," answered Crow, sounding almost as bad as Badger felt, despite trying to act casual about it.

He couldn't leave Crow like this, that'd be cruel.

"We're 'eadin' the same way anyway," Badger pointed out, "My 'ouse is a bit furtheh than yours, so I'll walk with you until we get there."

Not waiting for a response, Badger carried on down the ladder. He soon heard creaky footsteps behind him as Crow followed.

"Thanks, Badge'," Crow whispered, "Um...?"

"What?" prompted Badger.

"Ya can stay the night, if ya want. I know my place is a bit, well, it ain't as nice as Wren an' Sockets, but I'm sure we could make room for one night. Mum won't mind."

No one ever got offered to stay at Crow's house. The leader was secretive and preferred not to talk about his home life as much as he could help it. Being allowed into that bubble was like a strange sort of honour.

"All right," Badger replied, trying to sound as calm as he didn't feel, "Guess it beats wakin' dad up at this time."

"Glad to 'ear," chimed Crow, rushing to catch up with Badger, so they could walk together.

Their footsteps echoed into the evening, squelching down the mossy cobbles that had gotten damp with the arrival of the mist. Perhaps they were all alone and perhaps they were not, they couldn't say for sure. But it did seem that, luckily for them, the spectre didn't choose to bother market kids that night.


End file.
